


Aziraphale's Violin

by Lobsterling



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awkwardness, Aziraphale is awkward, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Books, Guitars, Music, Violins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26445028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobsterling/pseuds/Lobsterling
Summary: A brief summary of Aziraphale's interaction with violins over history - and in detail, the moment this hobby ceases to be a secret.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Aziraphale's Violin

**Author's Note:**

> Written some time ago, posted now I have an AO3 account. Hope you enjoy!

When Aziraphale discovers the existence of violins, he deeply regrets not having found out about them while they were being developed so he could have met the creators.

  * He immediately bought himself a violin and enrolled in tutoring. He turned up on the dot two times a week and diligently attempted the assignments set, but he never really got sheet music.
  * When the tutor retired, he took to practicing regularly by propping a book open on the table and twiddling with the instrument while he read.
  * Then he had to move his bookshop to Soho and spent a lot of time moving and re-cataloguing his books, so he stopped playing regularly and got out of practice.
  * Around the late seventeen-hundreds, he went to a concert with a wonderful violinist which rekindled his desire to play well, so he arranged for a new tutor.
  * When he turned up to the first lesson, the teacher asked him to play something so they could get an idea of where he was. Aziraphale asked for a book, and when presented with sheet music, he had to settle for closing his eyes and reciting a passage he'd memorised from a favourite novel so he could play something. The tutor retired immediately afterwards and went to live on the South Downs to set up a rescue goat centre. Because of this Aziraphale assumed he was hopeless at the violin, but he continued to play while reading because he enjoyed it.
  * He ardently kept the whole thing a secret– Until…



The hairs all over Aziraphale's back prickled and he was suddenly aware of another presence in the room. He glanced aside from his book to see a pair of snakeskin shoes at the doorway to his backroom and nearly dropped the violin. Instead, the bow cut a searing chord and the strings gubbled in surprise as he jerked the instrument from his shoulder and put it back into its case as quickly as was possible without damaging it. He snapped the clasps closed and stood up.

Crowley looked at him.

"Um," said Aziraphale

Crowley was standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, leaning with a shoulder against the frame. He was smiling, but it wasn't the "I don't understand how you can possibly enjoy this so much" grin that Aziraphale had expected.

For what seemed like a long time, but not eternity because Aziraphale had more experience with that than most, there was a heavy silence, burdened with anticipation. The sweat at Aziraphale's hairline composed itself into warm droplets and his ears went uncomfortably hot.

"I didn't know you played the violin."

"Ah. Well," said Aziraphale. "I don't play it," he said. "Well, not really, I just fiddle, you see, nothing _proper_ you understand. Um. It's nothing really, just. Just– Well, I don't _really_ play it, not well anyway. Um."

Crowley moved a little. Aziraphale managed to place his smile as, not the affectionate disunderstanding with which he often regarded Aziraphale's books, but rather a kind of unexplored interest; but it shifted and his expression morphed into something more familiar.

"No, no, it was good," he said. "Wonderful, actually. But, um. You never told me."

Aziraphale said, "Oh, well," and spluttered vaguely in the hope that Crowley would make some sense of it, because he certainly couldn't.

There was a pause. Crowley continued to stand at the door, eyes concealed by his shades.

"Well," said Aziraphale. "I simply– Not important, you know? Just tinkerings, nothing substantial, nothing to go talking about." 

Crowley watched him for a moment. Aziraphale was certain he was getting some kind of kick from making this all so awfully awkward.

And then Crowley hopped into the room and gestured to the table in front of Aziraphale with an elbow, because his hands were still in his pockets. "What're you reading?"

Aziraphale looked between him and the book propped open on the table a few times. Normally Crowley diligently avoided that question; he'd learnt his lesson when Aziraphale had responded once or twice with no less than an essay, complete with plot, external context, and analysis of the characters and their development. Yet he looked genuine enough now.

Aziraphale took a careful breath. He fisted his hands.

"It's a late-eighteenth century novel about the crew of a ship and how they make the passage between India and Australia and– stuff."

Crowley nodded. "Sounded like something sea– something sea-y." He shifted his weight. "You play well."

Aziraphale blushed, confused.

"Oh," he said. "Well. I didn't think I'm all that– um."

Crowley seemed to savour the discomfort in the air, and then took pity on the angel and energy sparked back into him.

"Right. I'll see you Monday, then?"

"Yes. Of course. Look forward to it." Aziraphale tried to keep his voice casual, but he knew it was hopeless.

Crowley pulled a hand from his pocket and made a brief, lazy gesture with two fingers that might have passed as a wave, and left the shop. Aziraphale heard the Bentley grumble into motion and listened to it retreat. Then he flexed his fingers and let out a deep breath. It took a moment of the thumping in his ears to continue before he noticed his heart rate and made an effort to normalise it, mind racing in self-analysis. He wasn't _embarrassed_ was he?

Oh, forget it. Of course he was.

But it was Crowley.

When Aziraphale meets Crowley again almost a week later, the demon has already perfected the electric guitar solo of Bohemian Rhapsody.

  * Eventually, Aziraphale convinced his violin to play in front of other people (namely Crowley). Aziraphale and Crowley began to play together; Crowley would play a piece he'd learned (usually from sheet music but occasionally by ear) and on the second time through, Aziraphale would join in.
  * After a while, Crowley learned to do some improvisation and Aziraphale learned to play pieces by ear (sheet music was always hieroglyphics to him).
  * Sometimes Crowley would announce his presence in Aziraphale's shop by playing a familiar intro/rif until the angel joined in. Crowley's guitar never needed an amp or lead - the volume control, distortion and echoes all happened of their own accord and went perfectly in all the right places.
  * Eventually Crowley persuaded Az to play some grimy rock (bit weird on a violin but he made it work somehow) and Aziraphale was unexpectedly enthusiastic, because it turned out to be a very effective customer-deterrent.
  * Occasionally, Crowley persuades Aziraphale to play some rock, and occasionally, Crowley obliges to do some classical music. When he does, his guitar, despite staying exactly the same shape, produces acoustic sound.
  * And Crowley never lets on, but sometimes he sneaks into the shop and waits outside the backroom, listening to Aziraphale read and play for up to half an hour before actually coming in.




End file.
